082007

I promised to continue; on the 12th I began a plea for sanity's sake that pulled back memories of all of your faces and all of your speeches seeping deep into my open skull. I promised to continue; tomorrow I said tomorrow. The sleep deprived mind and patterns of body pampering stole you from my fingertips. I PROMISED THAT I WOULD CONTINUE TOMORROW. I lied. And now I sit here spitting at my lack of discipline of loyalty to my memories for now they are buried deep within the depths of my day in and day out I have become the apathy I despised upon returning home from a week of utter mind awakening literary bliss. Now I not only miss you, miss my writers haven, miss poetry camp, miss the ocean and the breeze and the open spaces for creation, thought, solitude, conversation and gentle exhalation; now I miss the memories that I have allowed to fade slowly deep into the murky waters of my mind waves, if I dive deep enough I can barely make you out but just before I reach you, just before I can grab your hair and drag you up, surfacing with all your brilliance saving you and sharing you with the world so as never to be forgotten, just as the tips of my nails brush the ends of your hair flowing upward as you sink down into the darkened dreaded dreary deep; the overwhelming warnings of my nearly bursting lungs gasping against themselves overtakes me and I am forced to turn from you. I kick with frightening desperation to return to my daily life before I loose myself in the permanence of forgotten loves. I promised that I would continue tomorrow. Now, tomorrow is so far gone that I cannot even recall its shape or color or texture. And now I want to do you all justice. My stomach kneads and pleads and begs for me to do justice, to write my epilogue honoring my memories but the photographs were all developed for too long and have become blackened beyond repair. What am I going to do with my memories? Should I forget them as I have already, and forget the attempts I have at bringing them back into my mind? No I need you, I need you, like breath and sunrise and haunting dreams I need you. So if I allowed you to slip through the vowels on my page, to hide beneath the tips of my t's or the slithers of my certain sighs, awaiting their opportunity to slip inside my sentences; if I let you pass unacknowledged, understand this- it was not my intent. For I intended to continue my memories tomorrow.